New Year's Eve My Boyfriend Tried to Kill Me

I screamed and lunged for the power button, jabbing at it over and over, but the TV wouldn't turn off. No matter what I tried, the screen stayed on.

The figures on the screen seemed to press closer, as if they were about to crawl right out. I bolted into the bedroom and crammed myself inside the closet.

Fighting to keep my panic in check, I pulled out my phone and sent a direct message to the original poster.

"Are you okay over there? The people on my TV were all staring at me and smiling just now—it was terrifying!"

The reply came instantly: "HELP! Same thing here! They looked like they were about to come OUT of the screen. I'm hiding right now!"

My fingers trembled as I typed back: "What the hell is going on? It seems like only the two of us can see this—this is insane!"

Another instant reply, the words practically vibrating with panic: "I have no idea! Everything was normal this afternoon, and then tonight it just... changed. The way they were looking at me—those eyes—I'm so scared..."

I forced the terror down and tried to sound steady: "Don't panic. At least we can still reach each other and we still have internet. Try contacting someone near you right now—see if you can get help!"

The moment I hit send, I redialed my best friend's number. The line gave me nothing but a flat, cold busy signal. I called again. And again. No answer.

With no other option, I called my boyfriend, Simon Lambert.

I was an orphan. In this entire world, the only people I had were my best friend and him.

We'd planned to spend New Year's Eve together, but a few days ago we'd gotten into a massive fight about marriage and had been giving each other the silent treatment ever since.

But when your life is on the line, none of that matters.

The call connected quickly. The moment I heard his familiar voice, I couldn't hold it together anymore. My words came out shaking, cracked with sobs.

"Simon, something's happening at my apartment—the people on the New Year's Eve gala broadcast are wrong, they're not normal, they were all staring at me at the same time, and I'm hiding in the bedroom closet right now, I'm so scared, can you please come over right now?"

He went quiet for a beat, his voice thick with disbelief. "Babe? What are you talking about? It's New Year's Eve—don't mess with me like this."

"I'm not messing with you!" Tears spilled down my cheeks and my voice shot up, raw and desperate. "It's real, Simon, they're really wrong, I'm not lying, I'm here alone—please just come, okay?"

Maybe it was the sheer terror in my voice, because his tone dropped low and serious. "Okay. I believe you. I'm getting in the car right now. Stay in the closet and don't move. I'll be there soon."

After I hung up, I clutched the phone to my chest with both hands. The cramped space of the closet gave me the thinnest illusion of safety, but my heart was still hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.

The original poster hadn't sent any more messages—probably busy reaching out to someone on their end.

I don't know how long I sat there before Simon's call came through. I answered immediately.

But there was no concern in his voice. Only barely restrained anger.

"Are you serious right now? You think this is funny?"

I froze. "I'm not playing around—everything I told you is real!"

"Oh, still keeping it up?" He let out a cold, mocking laugh. "I'm standing right in front of the closet. There's nobody in here. Are you still mad about the fight? Is that what this is—some kind of prank to get back at me?"

A video popped up on my screen. He'd recorded the inside of the closet—the doors pulled wide open, the camera panning slowly across the space. Empty. A few clothes draped over hangers, a jacket crumpled on the shelf. Nothing else.

No sign of me.

I couldn't speak. My mind went blank.

He added, flatly: "Cut it out. This isn't funny."

"No—that's not—" Something inside me snapped. I fumbled to record a video of my own, hands shaking so badly the frame lurched. My face filled the screen, tear-streaked and pale, the closet walls and heaped clothes visible all around me. I sent it along with my live location pin.

"Look! I'm right here—I'm in the closet! The location says I'm here! I'm not lying to you!"